Original Sin
by Lyris Malachi
Summary: A woman seeks John Constantine for answers to her own haunted past.
1. A Child's Prayer

_Jenny awoke and stared at her ceiling, the pop still echoing in her ears. Maybe the boys next door were lighting more firecrackers! She threw her covers aside and padded, barefoot, over to the window. The street was dark, darker than normal. She realized that the streetlamps had gone out. Did they have to pay for the streetlamps? She couldn't remember._

_Her bedroom door burst open and she whirled in surprise. Her eldest brother, Greg, closed and door and leaned his back against his. His wild eyes danced around the room until they landed on her and Jenny tried to back away farther. His eyes scared her._

"_Jenny!" he hissed and ran over to her. He grabbed her wrist and started tugging on her._

"_Ow! You're hurting me!"_

"_Shut up!" She fell silent. Greg was never harsh with her. "You have to hide." She reached out and grabbed the rosary on her nightstand as he tugged her toward the closet. Her grandmother had given it to her upon her First Communion. The medallion had a few drops of water from Massielle in it. Greg opened the door._

"_Sinners! You're all sinners!" Their father's voice drifted through the closed door and they both froze, staring at the door in horror._

_Greg continued to shove her in the closet. "You have to hide. Dad's gone nuts!" He closed the door behind her. "Don't move and don't say anything!"_

"_What about—"_

"_Shut up!" he whispered again. "I'm going to call for help."_

_He reached for the bedroom door when it flew open, knocking him off balance. Jenny watched through the slats of the door as Greg backed away to the window. She watched their father advance like a predator she saw on Discovery. Words, familiar and comforting, began to flow though her mind even as she was unable to look away from the horror unfolding before her._

"_What are you doing here, boy?"_

Hail Mary, full of grace…

"_N—nothing, Daddy. Why do you have a gun?"_

The Lord is with thee…

"_I have to cleanse you of your sins!" he raved, taking another step._

Blessed art thou amongst women…

"_You don't have to do this, Daddy!"_

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…

"_You've been fornicating, haven't you? Sinning with your sister?"_

Holy Mary, mother of God…

"_I don't even know what that is!"_

Pray for us sinners…

"_Liar! Sinner!" The gunshot was deafening in the room._

Now

_Greg collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. He looked up at his father. "God…help!" he whispered._

And at the hour of our death.

_Their father stared down at the body. "Oh, God! What have I done? What have I done?" he repeated in a whisper. He raised the gun one more time and pulled the trigger. Jenny covered her ears as another gunshot resonated through the small room. Tears flowed down her face and she was finally able to look away._

Amen.

* * *

Jennifer tore herself from sleep with a gasp. Her sheets were soaked with sweat as they twined about her body like a vine. She untangled herself as she tried to force the images from her mind. They refused to leave and she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep again. She rose from bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, shivering as the cool air touched her drying skin.

She slid her feet into slippers and walked out of the tiny room, barely glancing at the sigils carved on the door jamb. Every door and window frame had similar ones for protection. She stepped into the dingy living room and crossed to a window. Grime had built up in the corners and a layer of dirt covered the glass. She stared down at the cars below, grateful for their pinpoints of light below the streetlamps.

Her eyes focused on a slight movement reflected in the glass. That would be her protector, Holden. She was confident that nothing malicious could enter the apartment; she had faith in the sigils and charms. There was movement again and she knew it was Holden returning to his own bed. This was not the first night she had risen hours before the sun. He knew by now that it was the nightmares that kept sleep at bay, nightmares that she refused to share and so he knew that the only thing he could do was finish sleeping.

Jennifer sat down in the old recliner that no longer reclined and picked up the book on the coffee table. _Lamb_. One of the only personal belongings she had managed to shove in her suitcase before she fled. She opened it to the marked page and removed the bookmark. It was a folded piece of paper with a hasty note scrawled on it. The note was going to save her life, she just knew it.

Shifting her weight slightly, she settled in to read the well-known words again.

* * *

Holden's internal clock woke him as dawn broke. He threw back the covers once again and dressed quickly. He entered the small bathroom, watching cockroaches scramble from the grungy light. The water was immediately rusty as he twisted the knob, then ran clear. Well, clearer anyway. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, then lathered his face with shaving cream. Deodorant was the final addition to his morning ritual and he was out of the bathroom within fifteen minutes.

Jennifer was napping in the chair. This was no surprise as he had been awakened by her the previous night. The action was familiar, repeating itself at least once a fortnight, usually once a week. He knew she would have stared out the window for a while, then read in between dozing. At one time, he had kept her company after the nightmare, but he soon learned that she wouldn't fall into another sleep deep enough to conjure the images.

He spied the familiar beads wrapped around her right wrist. The fifty-nine beads were hand-carved out of olive wood and strung together with fine silver chain. The Crucifix was also silver and just as delicate as the rest of the rosary. The medallion that usually depicted Mary was what drew his eyes. It was glass and remarkably hadn't shattered yet. Inside contained several drops from Lourdes, France, supposedly from the same grotto that Saint Bernadette had, upon the instruction of Mary, revealed a spring. He couldn't recall a time when he saw her without the rosary.

She stirred and her hazel eyes opened. "Morning," she said with a slight smile. She glanced toward the window to where the golden sun was already filtering through the window. "Just got up?"

He nodded. "Jen…why are we in LA anyway? You told me on the plane that it was important. I think I have a right to know."

"You're from LA, aren't you?"

If he was surprised by her sudden question, his face didn't betray it. "I am. But if you're looking for allies, I doubt we'll find any here."

"No, but you'll be able to track down this a lot faster than I." She handed him the note.

Holden took it and read it. He lifted his eyes to her. "You're joking, right?" She shook her head. "You want to track him down. Why?"

"Because he is the only one that can help me."

"How do you know that?"

"That note was left for me just before you…before we met."

"And you just trust it? How do you know this guy isn't just an assassin and the person that left the note for you isn't trying to deliver you to him?"

She rose to her feet, the book sliding from her lap to land on the floor. "Because of the note. When I touched it, I knew the person was only trying to help. You must have heard of him."

"Of course I've heard of him," Holden scoffed. "Doesn't mean I trust him."

"But you don't disagree that he can help."

He sighed. "No. I don't. I suppose we can ask him for help."

"Not we. You."

His eyebrows shot up. "And what will you be doing?"

"Praying." Her tone suggested that it was obvious. "I need to go to Confession too."

"What the hell could you possibly have to Confess?"

"That is between God and myself. Besides, I will be safe in church; they wouldn't try to harm me in a house of God."

She was right. Again. It prompted another sigh. "Fine. I'll take you to the nearest church and then I'll find him. But you—"

"I won't leave the church," she interrupted. "I have a feeling we've reached our final destination. It's as if a storm is settling over the city," she said absently. "I won't be running any further."

Holden felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was if she was attempting to prophesize, but the words were just out of reach. He hated seeing her in this state; it made him feel creepy and his skin crawl.

She abruptly rose. "I'll go get dressed."

* * *

The church was quiet and devoid of life. Walking up the aisle, Jennifer genuflected before sliding into a pew. She gently dropped the kneeler and knelt, producing the rosary from her sweater pocket. Despite being from the east, the morning air had chilled her and so she grabbed the sweater on her way out of the apartment. The ride over had been uneventful; Holden had warded the car against evil as well as the apartment. There had only been that one night, but it was one neither had wished to repeat.

She bowed her head as her fingers gripped the Crucifix. "I believe in God, the Father Almighty…"

Jennifer lost track of time as she continued around the beads. "…and obtain what they promise, through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen." She lifted her head and realized that there were considerably more people in the chapel. She still felt at ease and confident that nothing could harm her.

The confessionals weren't difficult to find and she opened the door to one and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her so as not to disturb the other penitents. She knelt once more and moments later, the divider slid open.

Crossing herself, Jennifer said, "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been…two weeks since my last confession." She hesitated.

"What sins have you committed, child?" the priest prompted kindly.

"I…I'm afraid God is testing my faith and I'm afraid I will fail. I'm afraid my faith isn't as strong as Job's."


	2. Succubus

"You sure you don't need any help, John?" Chas asked, eyeing his mentor. "You look dead on your feet."

"Positive. Go home and get some sleep, kid."

"Why? I didn't do anything. You know, I've been studying these books you gave me. I could be a big help and do more than just drive the car."

"You've been studying the books?" Chas nodded eagerly. "Good. Keep studying them." He stepped out of the car, his back to the youth's crestfallen face. He pressed the button to pop the trunk before Constantine asked and watched in the mirror as he removed his supplies from the back and entered the building. Heaving another sigh, Chas drove off.

The night had been a long one, Constantine reflected. He had spent it hunting down an impossible combination that had tormented a boy.

* * *

He had entered the parish Father Hennessy worked in and found him praying in a pew with a Hispanic woman and her son. The man looked up as they finished their prayer and waved him over.

"Señora Juarez, this is Señor Constantine," he introduced.

She looked up and dabbed at her eyes with a cotton handkerchief. She had been crying. "You can help?" she said, her words thick with accent. Mexican, Constantine guessed. He really wasn't surprised; most Caucasians didn't admit that demonic possession or even demonic activity was real.

"It depends," he admitted.

"_Es mi_ _hijo_," she said, putting an arm around her son.

Constantine could feel the taint on the boy even from the aisle. The kid was in a church, though, and he wasn't screaming, so it wasn't possession. She whispered in the boy's ear and lifted his head. He looked at Constantine and he saw that his gaze was absent and unfocused.

Stepping closer, Constantine peered into the kid's eyes. Something was draining him and he was willing to bet it was a succubus. Nasty bitches, but easy to get rid of. He shrugged. "I can help," he said.

She smiled. "_¡Bendígale¡El Dios le bendice!_"

He gave Chas the Señora's address and they found it easily. The son's bedroom was easy to pick out, even without the mother pointing him toward it. He hung a blessed Crucifix in the window and traced a symbol on the door with chalk, then repeated the symbol under the bed, but in salt this time. It was probably more than necessary, but he couldn't tell how long the succubus had been draining the kid. If she was truly determined to finish him, she'd become desperate to get in the room and he had seen a desperate succubus once. It hadn't been pretty.

"That is it, Señor?" she asked.

"That's it. He should be fine in a couple days." And with a little luck, the succubus would lose interest. At one time, he had tried to kill every incubus and succubus he came across, but that was futile. Not only were they slippery, but they seemed to breed like rabbits. "Make sure he sleeps in this room."

"Should we pray?"

"If it will make you feel better." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice.

"_Gracias, Señor_."

"_De nada,_" he replied and left.

"That didn't take long," Chas said.

"Read up on succubi tonight," Constantine said and leaned back in the seat.

* * *

That night, Father Hennessy called, clearly upset. "I just received a call from Señora Juarez. She said that there's something in her son's room and she can't open the door." 

"That's impossible. Shit."

"What? Is it something else? Something stronger?"

"No, it's definitely a succubus. I could almost smell the bitch when I was in his room. There must be two."

"Two? John, that's not possible. You know what happens when two succubi try to drain one man."

"I know, but what else could it be? I doubt she's working with another demon. Two succubi could get past those defenses. I'll go take care of it."

He hung up and dialed Chas' number. "Hello?" His voice was awake and alert. Constantine glanced at the clock. Just after midnight. The kid probably hadn't even been to bed yet.

"Chas, be outside in ten minutes." He hung up before he could ask any questions. He gathered the supplies he needed and was outside in twelve. Chas was just pulling up to the curb. He threw his bags in the trunk and slid into the passenger's seat. "Back to the Juarez home," he ordered.

"Is it something else?" He was asking the same questions as Hennessy, so Constantine cut him off.

"No, it's two succubi working together for once. Just drive." He lapsed into silence. A woman would be the ideal assassin for succubi, just as a man would be the ideal assassin for incubi. He knew he could resist one, but two…two were very dangerous.

Outside the house, Chas parked the car and started to withdraw the key. "Stay here."

"What? But John, you're going to need help."

"Not this time." It was true that the succubi were at their most powerful when their victim was asleep, but they oozed lust and sexual energy. He wasn't even sure if they did it purposefully. He knew men that had willingly walked into a succubus' arms only to have their throats slashed by their nails. He didn't need an untried youth in the presence of two, assuming it was two. He was still doubtful, but he knew that there would at least be one in the room.

Señora Juarez met Constantine at the front door, talking in rapid Spanish. She was clearly upset and he barely understood one word in three. He pushed her back gently. "Stay here," he said and strode toward the bedroom.

The doorknob wouldn't even budge John felt momentarily troubled. He hadn't heard of succubi having this sort of telekinetic power before. He was forced to break the door down and hesitated in the doorway. There were indeed two succubi. One was straddling the boy, riding him, while the other kissed him, alternating between the lips and the neck. They hadn't even looked up at the sound of splintering wood.

"Ladies, play time is over."

At the sound of his voice, the one kissing the boy looked up. She smiled and Constantine felt his heart skip a beat. She walked over toward him, voluptuous and gloriously naked. His nose twitched at the smell of roses and sex.

"Come join us," she said in a breathy voice. "Katerkia is taking her turn and I feel so empty. You could fill me up." She reached up to stroke his face, a smile on her lips. She had him.

Constantine suddenly backhanded her, knocking her back and to the floor. Her smile faded and she growled. "How dare you hit me!" Before she could rise and try it again, he brought out a phial of holy water and threw it toward her. She managed to twist out of the way using acrobatics a gymnast could envy, but she didn't avoid all of it. The smell was immediately replaced by the smell of rotting plants and burned flesh and she screamed.

The other looked up and hissed as Constantine drew a gun. She rolled the boy over so that she was on the bottom and he continued his rhythm. She was draining him as Constantine watched and she smiled, knowing he couldn't risk hitting the boy. The other succubus leapt at him and he instinctively fired the weapon. She fell back, screaming in pain again as she clutched her shoulder. Damn! He had missed the heart.

"Let him go," he ordered.

She smiled from under him. "No." He drew another phial of holy water and she suddenly revealed her true self, a hideous hag. The boy screamed in terror and tried to back away, but she wrapped her strong legs around him and forced him in and out of her. He aimed the phial and the wounded succubus leapt at him, knocking the glass from his hand where it shattered harmlessly on the floor.

"God damn it!" She was a hag too. "You're ugly."

"I'm hurt." Her voice was no longer breathy or intoxicating; it was scratchy and painful to listen to. "I want you. A strong man like you could keep me fed for a very long time."

"No!" Katerkia called from the bed. "I want him."

"You already have someone!" She gazed hungrily down at Constantine. "I'll have this one."

Katerkia threw the boy off of her. He scrambled back, fell of the bed and kept going until he had backed himself into a corner. He stared at the two demons in horror. The succubus crawled from the bed.

"We'll share this one like we did the other."

"No! You had the other one longer."

"Idiot! Can't you—"

Her words were drowned out as Constantine fired at Katerkia. She, like the other, twisted out of the way with impossible agility, but he still hit her chest. She arched her back and screamed, clutching her chest. She rose to her feet and leapt out the window. The second was only moments behind her and Constantine fired after both of them, missing each time.

Damn it to hell! He noticed that the Crucifix was missing on the window and then he too was through it and on the fire escape. He ran down the metal stairs and after the fleeing demons. He caught up to Katerkia first; she was grievously wounded and barely managed to stay on her feet as she stumbled through the shadows.

"She abandoned you, didn't she?" Constantine sneered. She whirled with a hiss, but he was ready, throwing holy water in her eyes. Her scream was piercing, ending when he put a bullet through her heart. "Bitch."

He hurried after the second one, knowing she was in search of food. She hadn't fed yet and so he doubted she'd return to hell until she had. Unfortunately, she could enter any window with a sleeping man beyond and he'd never notice.

Something landed on him and he collapsed to the ground, losing his gun. "Did you lose your toy?" she growled in his ear. "Now I can use you as one." She licked his neck. "So much power. You must be a psychic."

He gathered his strength and threw her off. "The name's Constantine, bitch."

"Constantine?" She giggled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "I'll be known as the demon that finished Constantine. Embrace me, exorcist!" She leapt at him again, but he was ready this time and twisted out of her reach, bringing up a blessed knife. She collapsed on the ground, clutching her face as ichor oozed from the wound.

"Why were two of you draining that boy?" he demanded.

"Because we thought it would be fun," she spat back.

He calmly picked up his gun. "Wrong answer," he said and shot her in the leg. Over her screams, he repeated, "Why were two of you draining that boy?"

She managed a grimacing smile. "Original sin. The innocent ones are the most fun to steal away from your god." She began to speak in demonic.

Constantine fired one more round, into her head this time, and began the trek back to the house. Mother and son were sitting at the kitchen table and a tea kettle had began its shrill whistle when he returned. They cut off their Spanish and the boy rose.

"_Gracias, Señor Constantine_," he said.

"Next time, don't remove the Crucifix from your window." He looked sheepish. "And date girls your own species."

Chas was nearly bouncing in his seat as Constantine returned the bag to the trunk. "What happened in there?"

"I had to chase down a couple succubi," he replied, drawing a cigarette. The run had seriously winded him and he was trying not to show it as he took a long drag on the cigarette.

* * *

After Chas dropped him Constantine had returned to his apartment, dropping the supplies on the floor and grabbing a glass that appeared clean. He poured alcohol into it and took a drink, feeling the familiar burn run down his throat. He lit another cigarette and leaned back in the chair. 

_Original sin. The innocent ones are the most fun to steal away from your god._

The succubus' words worried him. Original sin had followed humans since their exile. It was one of the factors of the Wager and one thing not against the Rules. Being a child was a double-edged blade. Children seemed to have more faith in God, perhaps because adults and the world of science hadn't discouraged them yet, but it protected them. At the same time, it also made them more susceptible to influences of evil.

He yawned and knew he wouldn't be able to clearly think about her words until he had some sleep. First, though, he had to take care of his supplies. He would clean the gun later and get more holy water from Beeman too. Constantine stripped off his clothes and fell into bed where he slipped into sleep moments later.


End file.
